I heard gunfire. He blew out the back window of his own car trying to prevent it from being stolen.
I didn’t heed his warning shots, as literal as a sign could be. He robbed me of my spirit, my time, my confidence.
“Someday he’ll get his,” I said when I left him.
When his teenage son shot himself with that same pistol 27 years later, I thought, “Not like this”.